Harry Potter & The Horrible
Home Health Aide
A Q Fever! Exclusive Excerpt

This month, Q Fever! correspondent J.K. Rowlings gives us a special sneak preview of what will be the very last installment in the Harry Potter series.

It's been many years since the Sorcerer's Stone passed through Voldemort's common bile duct, and we now find Harry retired and living in the English countryside...

Chapter 4 -The Twillowbottom

"Gee, I sure could go for a ruckus game of Quidditch," said Harry gleefully as he stared out at the beautiful summer sky.

"Aww, shut up and take yer Lasix Harry," replied Vargas McdoNasty, Harry's new home health aide. "Yeh hasn't played no Quidditch for nearly a hunderd years nah."

"Oh, I know, but it's nice to remember, Vargas. And besides, I don't think I need the Lasix, my breathing is quite comfortable," Harry noted, wheeling himself toward the living room, a crooked smile adorning his face ever since the stroke.

"Aww, christ-all-mighty Potter! Yer breathin's good cuz yer TAKIN' the Lasix. Nah don't gimme any lip or I'll tie yeh up like the boar we're ettin' fer dinner," roared Vargas, storming off towards the kitchen.

Vargas was a strange one. Harry couldn't figure quite where he was from. Or what he was, for that matter. He certainly wasn't human. As best he could tell, Vargas was a Twillowbottom. These were creatures that were half man and half another man. If you didn't know either man, then it wouldn't really make a difference. But in addition to that, Vargas seemed to be the victim of multiple gene deletions and other errors in DNA reproduction that ultimately led to his unsettling appearance, which was that of a giant Dachsund.

"I've got to get a new health aide," muttered Harry to himself. "I can't stand to be treated like this. I used to be a star." Harry took the cup with his Lasix and other medications and tossed them on the floor. Then, gripping his chair firmly, he kicked his legs out to sweep the pills under the couch. He heard Vargas returning to the den and resumed his lookout post by the window.

"What's this," Vargas shouted, kneeling down to pick up a stray tablet which Harry had carelessly left on the ground. "What's what," Harry mumbled, paying little attention to Vargas' temper. Vargas knelt down again and found the conglomerate of pills that Harry had dispensed beneath the couch.

"Dammitt Potter," Vargas yelled. "How many times does I hafta tell ya, it's all about the preload! Yeh just don't get it, do yeh? I'm not gonna be the one to sit here while yeh gets all full o' water. And then yeh end up intubated in the unit with yer wedge pressure higher than Mount Everest. Vargas won't play that game with yeh, Mr. Harry "I don't care about modern pharmacology" Potter!

And with that, Vargas stormed out of the house vowing never to return. Harry watched him meander through the front yard and out to the dirt road. He smiled and brushed his hands together.

"Another one bites the dust," he thought, lighting up a Marlboro and picking up the phone to ring the agency for a new home attendant. "Hello there, this is Mr. Potter," he said, popping a sub-lingual nitro. "I'll need a new attendant - and perhaps she could be a bit younger and have some nice curves."